


For the Love (of a Winchester)

by corgiles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brief Mention of Violence, Crowley/Castiel but not really, Demon Dean Winchester, M/M, Mark of Cain (Supernatural), Mentions of Sex, Unrequited Love, angsty boys cant get it together, essentially a series in kisses, onesided Crowley/Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-02-25
Packaged: 2019-11-05 10:07:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17916716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/corgiles/pseuds/corgiles
Summary: Crowley doesn't start out with the plan to kiss all of the original members of Team Free Will like he's starting a collection but somehow that's where he ends up. His fascination with Sam leads him on a journey that changes his perspective on love and what he would give up for it. If he thought Sam Winchester's kiss was hard to forget, he stood no chance at the mercy of Dean Winchester.





	For the Love (of a Winchester)

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> In this there is a slight change in canon in that when Sam and Dean make the deal with Crowley at the end of season 8 to capture him in order to purify his blood to complete the trials, Sam kisses him as if sealing the deal in order to distract him.
> 
> Sorry for any mistakes, I churned this one out quicker than I should have but I was interested in how the dynamics between Team Free Will and Crowley changed by season 12 and what may have influenced it. Anyway, please enjoy and let me know what you think!  
> 

Sam would kill him without hesitation. In fact, he had tried many, many times now and would try many, many more.

Crowley would still be the first to loudly, and saucily, proclaim he was obsessed with him. The moment he saw that towering man with strong hands and silky hair was the second he knew he wanted the throne to Hell and him. He had a spark of impurity and anger management issues, although not to the point of his brother, that would work just fine for him. Best of all, he still believed in humanity like a fool. Every time he opened his mouth to preach or demean evil, he felt a dark urge to take that hope and drain it from his soul. 

He learned as much as he could about the brothers and became like a shadow. He knew there was something special, something beneath the fate of them that would be worth watching. As time moved on, Sam added more and more insecurities and bad decisions into what he called a personality, but what Crowley knew would only draw him more towards his side if he could just convince him. He sat back to see the two struggle against the hungry darkness in their hearts and he patiently waited for the perfect moment to whisk away the shells of their impudence and arrogance. The desire to swipe Sam away was amplified as he found he was intricately tied with Lucifer and that in itself was tantalizing enough for an aspiring demon like himself. To have something that the Lucifer, the almighty fallen Creator of Hell, had so desperately wanted would only elevate his status. 

Somewhere along the way, however, he found his perspective leaving him breathless as two irritating brothers won time and time again. Soon it wasn’t the thought of having Sam for his own to corrupt that pushed him forward whenever the Winchesters called, but the thought of being able to be the one they leaned on. Lust became admiration and admiration became less important than being trusted. He worked against them with Cas to understand how to get close to them. He watched the mistakes of an angel who had everything spin out of control. Then, he used his new knowledge to gain praise and trust of the Winchesters. As he ordered his demons to leave the brothers alone to deal with the Leviathans, he found himself yearning for Castiel’s spot. He could still be evil, but if he indulged his crush on a moose of a man, who could blame him, right?

Sam kissed him to seal the deal of the brothers stopping the trials and getting the demon tablet. It was more of a peck, if not a sloberless closed lip grimace and Crowley being Crowley, announced his displeasure immediately, “I’m saving your troublesome asses and _that's_ the thanks I get? You really can’t kiss any better, dear Moose? I have to say I’m extremely disappointed after years of positively better daydreams.”

It may have been a combination of Sam’s recent resignation to life or just to ensure he’d do a proper job and couldn’t weasel his way out of it, but either way, he didn't care. A new kiss found its way to him and this one was light like feathers brushing against his lips and softer than he ever expected from such a person who took up so much space - and like he mentioned, he had been imagining the kiss for a long, _long_ time. And then cuffs were slapped on him and the contract wasn’t completely signed and he knew he was fucked. Just - not in the way he had been hoping. 

“Bollocks,” he muttered under his breath to no one. He let his head hit the back of the chair they mercilessly strapped him to once he was comfortably settled in.

\---

Dean kissed Crowley first. 

The latter had led Dean into becoming a demon, to giving into the bloodlust of the Mark, and into leaving behind his brother and angel. Crowley had started their little adventure to find the Mark with his sights set on the other Winchester because if he couldn’t have one, he would take the other. He was being greedy in a human way that would make a demon proud. He plotted every step and traced back-up plan over back-up plan until it was solid. It was air tight and only required the participation of one Dean Winchester, but things rarely went according to plan with those nuisances. He wanted his throne back more than anything else. He wanted it more than Sam and more than what the human blood gave him. But as he stood in that living room the night they found Cain and watched Dean tear through demon after demon...as he saw the swirling tendrils of passion and potential, he saw Dean in a new light and it wasn’t pure or righteous but intriguing and enticing. The things Dean could do if he channeled his anger and the power of the Mark would be astronomical. If the rumors were true and he became a Knight of Hell...well, it was worth salivating over.

The human blood that Sam had forced into him had made him softer and he knew that and yet, he kept pumping it into himself. And when Dean had woke up with a start and looked at him with those stark black eyes, something cracked through his melting defenses. 

“I can give you what you need,” He had offered. It wasn’t even in an attempt to seduce him but the way his eyes flickered between black told him he hadn’t needed to; not really. Dean followed him in a haze and with heavy eyes from the place he had called home. More than being his underling didn’t happen immediately. Dean found out fast that being a demon drained his impulse control and his phone persistently ringing against the bar’s counter only irritated it. And then beer wasn’t working in the way he wanted and Crowley was the one who kept him from going further than he needed to every time he sliced too deep into another’s neck. He took Dean’s wrists with a gentleness he hadn’t shown him before until he could reign it in himself. And when he let him continue to do it, even though he wasn’t sitting in a pool of blood and he even leaned into it, Crowley let his hands drag him closer. He soon found himself admiring the view in crystal green eyes surrounded by layers and layers of freckles as Dean leaned up to meet his lips.

Dean kissed him because Crowley was being persistent and annoying. He dangled his fears and insecurities in front of him and turned them into strengths. He offered him what others refused. He let him speak up about the things he tried to hide because they made him a ‘monster’. He didn’t try to fix him like everyone else had because he could understand more than they could. Together, they found similarities in parental abuse and acts of desperation when they did things other’s never considered for the sake of survival. Crowley had darkness swirling under his skin but used it to get him what he needed. He showed Dean what it meant to give in to his needs. What it meant to never go hungry and take what he deserved. He taught him what it meant to be selfish and then go even further.

Crowley gave him an outlet. Whether it was because he need to hear the hatred in other’s voices when they found out what he was capable of and he needed to drown himself in it to surrender more, or because there were no other options that could give him what he needed, Crowley didn’t care. He was delighted to indulge. 

Crowley told himself he did it because he could. Because he had seen the way Cas had spiraled due to a Winchester and he had also felt the pull towards one. He did it because he couldn’t have what he wanted. He did it because he saw how Dean looked after Cas, when the latter was being brave and how he hurt when he thought it wasn’t returned. He told himself that two broken people don’t make a whole, but they can bring comfort to each other and so he followed the cracks of Dean’s skin that revealed too many years of swallowing lies and feeling displaced and filled them in. The Mark made him enticing, his destiny made him powerful, but Dean as a person made him the ultimate temptation.

While Sam kissed as if promising a tomorrow, Cas kissed like he was running away from the past, and Dean kissed for the now; as if he was going to die any second if he went without it and he took his partner down with him.

Dean dragged his teeth across his bottom lip and instead of his breath leaving him, it filled his lungs like a limb that had finally stopped tingling after falling asleep. The tips of his fingers held no warmth, but where they trailed left sparks of fire underneath him that heated his body before fading all too quickly. It made him greedier and desperate. Dean pulled away and walked back against the bed and Crowley followed without hesitation. As he chased after those lips, he was rushed with understanding as to why one would give up a lifetime in Heaven after one touch. The desire to touch the soul of such a being, one that should have been ordinary and should not have contained such determination, gripped him tight. He dug his nails into the soft skin that tore too easily and the rough, raised edges of scars that never healed. He knew the significance of scars more than most; why some should never be healed. He was rewarded with sounds he committed to memory. The secrets that had never been uttered aloud by either filled their silences, the truths neither wanted, and their shared pains.

They fell into a habit over their shared months.

“Tell me again.” Dean mumbled as he ran his hands up his sides and slid downward. He didn’t need any more context. As with most nights it was requested, Crowley gripped his arm tight right where it would shake him the most, “You’re broken, tainted, and dark.” And he would repeat it as they moved together, shout it when he grew hungry for more, and whisper it like a lullaby when they finished in a motion to soothe the beast.

After a few times, in an act of gentleness neither would mention, Crowley began to smooth his thumb over the mark and watch as Dean squeezed his eyes shut as if trying to dispel the thoughts of his every action. With his other thumb, he would catch any tears that came in moments of weakness. The moments when the mark wasn’t all encompassing and Dean would learn that being a demon was not the same as being soulless and feelings could still be a bitch.

He would wait until Dean’s breathing would almost completely even out, just before he slept when he didn’t need to because he still hadn’t completely let go of his human urges. He would see the few moments when he wasn’t facing his darkness and catch the tenderness between awareness and sleep. Instead of repeating the usual saying, he would amend his every word into reassurance: “But that doesn’t make you bad.”

But as the human blood gripped him tighter and tighter, Dean lost more and more of his. 

He always knew in his gut he couldn’t have him for long and didn’t initially plan on it. In the beginning, he truly was using him for the mark and the sheer power that would be afforded to him if he could control _the_ Dean Winchester as a bloody Knight of Hell. But then they spent more and more time together and the more he saw that wicked smile crawl up those alluring lips and those strong arms mercilessly bash another head in, the more he grew attached. The more he felt his cruel fingers curling around something he hadn’t felt in a long time. It was more than his obsession with his brother. It was like sitting outside on a warm summer night under the stars again. So, when he finally felt Dean slipping from his grasp into a suite of boredom and restlessness, he got him angry to keep him close.

It was a tumultuous night and Dean was more on edge after he had tore the demons ‘Abaddon’ had sent to literal pieces. Crowley was ignored and tossed to the side with a glare so he fought back. He used his anger and his true nature and said, “You know, I think I prefer the way _Castiel_ kissed more.” He flicked his gaze over him and let his eyelids fall into a half-lidded look, “Although, it is hard to measure up to an angel.”

He expected immediate action but instead he found a hunched Dean that he hadn’t seen for years. An insecure one whose ears burned when someone mentioned something he didn’t agree with but didn’t know how to properly assert his emotions. One that still had some of daddy’s control over him even though he was long dead. It made Crowley’s anger grow until finally: “You guys kissed?” He asked as his jaw clenched shut. He could almost hear the grinding down of his teeth. In faint surprise, Crowley missed the beat he needed to snatch the rage out of Dean on the first try. He had noticed before the change in his voice whenever the angel was mentioned but this time, it was different. 

So, he did what demons do and against his rising hesitations, the humanity left in him wanting to apologize or kiss away the questions, he raised hell. He wanted the jealousy. He wanted the anger and the rage. He wanted what would drag the Mark to the surface and boil the skin it occupied until the Dean who could be loved by an angel and the Dean who felt worthy to love one were at the bottom of a undiscoverable ocean. Even if he wanted that Dean, he would take the one he could get. Because somewhere along the way he fell like everyone eventually does in the presence of him. If he wanted Dean Winchester for his own and he _wanted_ to be wanted in return, he would have to settle for a Dean only a demon could love. He repeated that wish again and again until he believed it. He sauntered into the Knight of Hell’s space and taunted him with only a smirk. He let his hand drop from his shoulder to his upper arm and gripped hard enough to bruise if he was still human. 

Dean remained still and didn't shrug off his touch with his eyes downcast despite Crowley blocking out the light as he stood over him. Quietly, like the moments before storm clouds open and unleash hell, he asked, “To seal a deal?” His hands clenched the sheets until they couldn’t breathe.

“Purgatory,” Crowley purred long and slow because he knew that would hurt the most. The time when Dean was betrayed and left behind for greater power instead of what he was offering. “More than willingly,” He hissed as he leaned further in.

Those pesky black eyes flickered between them, “Show me.”

“Make me, darling,” Crowley replied and he was pushed back into a tangle of limbs like usual. Like he wanted, he thought. Where they had moved like waves moving along the shore before, they now crashed as they pushed and pulled along an erratic rhythm. If it felt empty, he just had to tell himself that it was only until he came around. Until he was a King with the chair beside him filled.

But when they were done, Dean barely glanced at him as he spat, “Fuck you,” and left. But he didn’t miss the way Dean’s hands were shaking as he downed another bottle and the way he found him later curled on the bathroom floor. He let him go as the space next to him in bed taunted him in the shape of his desire. He didn’t bother to fix it. He laid on his back and found new hatred in the patterns of the ceiling. He looked for green eyes softened by the sun and comfort but only saw the darkness creeping along every raised edge as the night dragged on.

They continued on for a week before Dean finally had enough and the Mark grew warmer under his hand whenever he opened his mouth to egg him on. He rolled them off the bed with a large thump and leaned down as Crowley grunted in surprise. He dipped his body down, his arms flexing on either side of his head. With his mouth tugging on his ear, he whispered rough and low: “You know what? You’re _not_ him. _You_ are replaceable.” 

The next day Crowley found him in his bed with another; a pretty woman that would’ve been Dean’s exact type to settle down with when he was human. He looked up at him with such lazy hatred in his eyes and he knew he had lost him. He tried to tell him himself that he had made the wrong move after all that careful planning, but as he watched Dean latch onto the girl in false interest and then break her heart in a cruel twist of his mouth when he didn’t have to, he knew he was just the wrong person.

He never heard the end of his jaunt with Dean when he was sitting back on his proper throne. Still, he couldn't deny it was worth it and so he didn’t. He let the taunts come and go because he had held a piece of him and those who had never done so could never know how it changed a person. Somehow he, the King of Hell and eternal Damnation, had been hooked and reeled in until the line was a turn away from snapping. Now he truly realized why that pesky angel kept coming back. He understood why he would damn the world a million times if it meant Dean would be safe and fall a hundred more if it meant Dean would smile. He could feel the reason behind why he would burn his wings to ashes and bury his brothers in arms if it meant staying next to him. 

Dean Winchester was unforgettable. 

\---

“We’ve had better foreplay than that, darling.” Crowley said as a gun was pointed at him when he showed up too suddenly for Dean.

There was a withered look to Dean that showed he still remembered. He still knew he had been under his thumb for a few months. And it wasn’t regret that he saw. He had moved on from Crowley - if that could be said. Really, he had just been used for a few months and then tossed away when he couldn’t be what he wanted. Yet, despite the spikes in his stomach, he couldn’t bring himself to hate him for it. He no longer injected himself with human blood but he could still feel the memories of those hot puffs of breath along his neck dragging new desires from underneath his skin. The ghost of the pushing desperation to save the purity of Dean when it was clear being a demon was killing his essence. He no longer had all of Dean, and maybe he never did, but Dean still called him and relied on him. And perhaps that would be enough, he lied to himself.

“Crowley,” Dean called after him once they began to part ways. Crowley paused with his hands shoved in his pockets, never looking back, just like Dean.

He waited in the long stretch of silence and space. “Thank you,” Dean finally said with rare sincerity. Crowley kept walking. If he could only say one truth for the rest of his life it would be that Dean Winchester never made anything easy. If he could never lie again, he would deny to his dying breath that he would give everything up for a Winchester like Castiel had. He still did anyway.

\---

Cas had met him halfway when they first kissed outside of making a deal. 

His hunting Lucifer with Cas did not have all pure intentions, as usual. Cas was aware that there was an underlying motive, but if he had a problem with it, he never mentioned anything. Rather, he let him push his patience and test the boundaries of what he could get away with without being smited. 

When they met up with the brothers and Dean had tolerated Crowley’s presence, and even turned to him on more than one occasion instead of paying all of his attention to Cas, he knew he had more ammo than usual. In his mind, he wondered if Cas knew he understood the pain he was going through. He was still a demon, however, so he did have an image and a mean sense of pettiness to maintain. 

He sat on the edge of the dresser with his legs crossed so when Cas got out of the shower he was directly in the way. He didn’t refrain from ogling the toned bare chest or from briefly becoming jealous of the water dripping slowly down his body. 

Cas stopped just before him, gripping the towel around his waist tighter as he narrowed his eyes further than usual, “Do you mind?”

He didn’t bother looking up again as he finished shaping his fingernails into points, “Feeling human shame now, are we? Here I thought you were an angel again. You don’t even need to shower anymore.”

He made the motion of sneering but Cas hadn’t quite mastered it yet, “Spending all day with you makes me feel like I need more showers than there are hours in the day.”

“Well, I hope you had some fun in there, at least.” Crowley lifted his eyebrows suggestively as he dangled a leg, “You could invite me to join some time seeing as we _are_ partners now. They say people do their best thinking in the shower, I bet we could make some real progress in there together.”

Since Crowley knew him well by now, he could see him filing away the latter half to google later to confirm before he refocused and sighed louder than he needed to, “Why are you here, Crowley?”

He lifted his hands in a placating manner, “Just trying to help. Maybe I needed a shower, too, after seeing Dean in that outfit today. His ass was particularly tantalizing in those jeans.”

Cas had turned to zap clothes onto himself and whipped around as soon as he processed his comment, “Don’t you dare say his name with your foul mouth.”

He had allowed Dean to not be just his but his anger surged at the assumptions of the self-righteousness angel in front of him. “I’ve had more of him than you ever have,” He spat back, a tinge of regret following as he saw the flash of hurt across Cas’ face. He adjusted his plans as a good strategist does. He hopped off the dresser before he was quickly cut off.

He wasn’t expecting a pushback nor the way the angel suddenly crowded him, “I’ve touched his soul; something you’ll _never_ be able to do.” And he leaned in to hiss in a way that proved Lucifer had left a chilling impact on him after all, “ _demon_.”

Crowley scoffed, “Do you think if I stole another kiss from his lips, he would follow me again? He was so obedient the first time.”

Cas turned to compose himself but Crowley wasn’t quite ready to give up. “He’s pretty daft, isn’t he?” He replied to the taut back and watched as the skin pulled even tighter in response to his words, “You’ve known for quite awhile about your own feelings; although I suppose the millenia and being a superior being gave you a slight edge, right, darling?”

Cas snarled and before he knew what was happening, he was pinned against the wall by shadows of mighty, broken wings and the rage and jealousy of an angel, something that had birthed his kind. He basked in the narrowing of Cas’ eyes and the lack of space between them. Crowley raised his lips into a smile, “Your owner had me pinned just like this more times than I could count when we were _together_.” 

“You’re lying.”

“Am I? Can’t you tell, love?” Crowley caught his eye so Cas was forced to nod, “I know what he likes...what gets him going, if you will. I spent _months_ with him.”

Cas’ eyebrows pulled together as his head drew back, but not in disgust, “Are you...propositioning me?”

“Well, I never had to ‘proposition’ Dean. He knew what he wanted.” He tapped his fingernails back against the wall and bit his lip slowly. He rolled it between his teeth like Dean would have and Cas noticed.

His breathing stuttered in his most human reaction yet, “Shut _up_.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, are you the one that got to lick those delicious abs as he begged for more?” Crowley’s head banged hard against the wall but he just smiled.

He could see he was reaching the edge of Cas’ limit so he pushed some more. He knew that look, knew what it felt like, and he knew what he had to do. Crowley gripped the wrist that was nearest his hand and felt it tremble, “He showed me where you gripped him to ‘raise him from perdition’. I wonder, why did you heal that scar? If I were you I would’ve left it there for everyone to see. It was all too smooth of skin ready for me to mark for my own.”

He looked up through his eyelashes to see those nostrils flare. It made it so easy to see how angels created mountains and craters from firm earth with so little effort. “It’s still on his soul, isn’t it? Is that what made you the most mad about being human? You couldn’t see what made him yours...Did you regret it every moment you closed your eyes? You thought you would at least get to stay by his side and that would be enough, but he kicked you to the curb.”

At the silence he continued, his own self-hatred seeping into his words until they were indistinguishable, “You’re weak and afraid now, aren’t you? And that is two things Dean Winchester _hates_.” 

He received a pause of consideration as Cas breathed out, “But, what’s in it for you?” 

Crowley grinned, “I can’t have all of him, but I can have what he wants.” He flashed his eyes red, his hands growing hotter as he concentrated his power to them but Cas didn’t relent, just tilted his head.

“You’re wrong,” Cas said in a way that made it unclear which part he thought was wrong. 

He feigned boredom as he flicked his eyes back and tried to shrug best he could underneath the weight of the angel, “Face it, you’ve both had enough chances to do something about it and here you are, with me, and him hours away.” 

“It’s...it’s not that simple,” He managed to get out around the suffocating air.

“Seems pretty simple compared to multiple apocalypses. You’re a broken angel with nothing left to give even when powered up again. Don’t you want to be useful for him?” Crowley watched the turmoil in the way the shadows that held him down flickered and puffed, “You love him, don’t you? I can give you what a taste of his love feels like.”

“Then, show me,” The angel said with a note of desperation, inches away from an edge with wings that could no longer fly.

“Shall we seal it with a kiss?” He teased, knowing his humor would be stolen from his lips. And so, they fell together in a new way; in a fit of loneliness.

And for that moment in time and space, everything was fine. He could settle for a solution that benefitted them both. A deal with the devil, or in this case, the King of Hell.

Then he saw the way Cas rolled his eyes as he talked of Crowley’s annoyance but leaned back into his space anyway when he couldn’t get Dean’s full attention. The insecurity of the motion jolted him as it mirrored his own once. He noticed the way Dean’s eyes traced after the space Cas forgot to leave in order to talk to Crowley. The hurt that rose to the surface was once a rock solid barrier between him and Dean. They could help each other get through some things, but neither could change in the right way to fit together perfectly. And they couldn’t mold the other to how they wanted, Between Dean and Cas, that barrier could be demolished with a single gentle hand to cross. The love he wanted was right in front of him but it wasn’t meant for him. Their love was mutual in an irritating way because it meant he was right, he was the wrong person.

If he felt remorse instead of what he was so desperately trying to cling to, he hid it behind his closed eyes. He couldn’t let two of them be dragged down anymore. Not when one of them had a chance. He waited until they were alone and Cas took a step towards him, the sadness darkening his eyes. The kind of sadness that would shrivel his fingers and his freedom and not stop until his eyes were empty instead of demon black. So, he made a move to create space and straightened his jacket and titled his chin, “He’s in love with you.”

He felt the shift in the room rather than saw it. The guilt and denial that dripped off Cas like sweat. The worry and fear he had mentioned before only increased but instead of deflating him, Cas grew to his full stature. His shoulders set and he saw the steadiness to them that lifted such a strong soul through his domain all those years ago. There was more to their connection. Something he left on the day he died as a human. He had an absence of emotions while the angel was collecting them the more days he lived by Dean’s side. They were both moving in a direction Crowley could never again walk down. 

“He’ll forgive you,” He said in his last act of humanity, before he let that part of him go. In that moment, Crowley ripped away his chances at his love; _for_ his love, “He’s always forgive you. Don’t be daft and waste it when you still have time.”

Once the mission was over, he would be back in his bare palace with only his abusive and unloving mother trying to steal what he had left when her plans eventually ran dry. He would have no one to trust and the cold fingertips that had brushed against his skin in the moonlight would be warm against heavy shoulder blades of another. He could steal more or deceive more, but he was tired of it. 

In the end, he would never have the softness of those green eyes trailing after him or the devotion of an angel powered by free will. He wouldn’t have the rage that was birthed from injustice against him turned on his enemies. Or the desperation of a Winchester trying to bring one of their own back to life. He entertained the thought often that he could just leave and find a way that ended better. He could forget the haunting humanity the Winchester’s brought but he also knew it was too late. He wasn’t just addicted to the human blood and emotions, he was addicted to _them_. Besides, he had always made a lot of bad choices in his life. He was the bloody King of Hell after all.


End file.
